


come here close (almost enough to touch)

by unholyconfessions (orphan_account)



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Awkward Romance, Emotional Hurt, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, POV Alternating, Past Relationship(s), Possibly Unrequited Love, Slow To Update
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-18 01:49:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3551561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/unholyconfessions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eddie is the new detective in town and Barry Allen catches his eye, but it’s well known in the CCPD that Barry has just gotten out of a complicated relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> Based on my AU gifset [here](http://bcrrieallen.tumblr.com/post/113657808776/au-in-which-eddie-is-the-new-detective-in-town-and) on Tumblr.
> 
> Unbetaed. Feedback is love.
> 
> Enjoy!

Barry likes this new detective, Eddie. He does.

He’s nice to everyone and doesn’t have a problem getting compliments from Joe, which says a lot about him on its own, but there’s still _something_ about him Barry can’t pinpoint.

There’s something about the way his eyes dawdle over Barry when he thinks Barry isn’t looking, or when he brings everyone at the station coffee on Tuesdays, but only Barry’s has _just_ the right amount of whipped cream while others have their orders switched up.

Barry doesn’t know _what_ it is, only that it’s _something_ , and it doesn’t sit right with him. 

He first noticed it when Joe introduced them to each other, and Eddie’s fingers lingered on him as they shook hands. Eddie’s eyebrows came together in a frown, a smile playing on his lips as he repeated Barry’s name after Joe, as if he’d heard it before. 

He probably had, and Barry didn’t—doesn’t—blame him for it. It’s hard not to have people know your name when you’re Oliver Queen’s ex- _boy_ friend.

Barry didn’t bother correcting anyone when word got out that Oliver had dumped _him_ , and not the other way around. The people who mattered knew the truth; still, it bothered him when he received pity stares and concerned pats on the back from his co-workers, as if this event had somehow changed who he is.

He doesn’t want that any longer.

Maybe it’s not pity he sees in Eddie’s eyes, but it doesn’t hurt to try and keep his distance.

“Allen,” Singh’s voice drags Barry away from his thoughts and Barry glances up, blinks. “You’re working with Thawne on this. I want results this afternoon.”

Barry opens his mouth in vain, knows it won’t do any good to fight Singh on the matter, and Singh raises his eyebrows, as if waiting for a response.

“Sure,” is what Barry offers, eventually, taking the file Singh hands to him.

Singh moves on to another case and Barry excuses himself, doesn’t miss Eddie following him as he makes his way out.

“Hey, Allen,” Eddie calls after him, one hand touching his shoulder.

Barry swallows a sigh, turns around with a half-smile, says, “Detective.”

Eddie gives him a look somewhere between amused and perplexed, his eyebrows flying up, and Barry mimics him, lets the silence hover until it becomes uncomfortable.

“I—I don’t know what’s supposed to be going on here,” Barry announces through a chuckle. He points at the file. “I was just about to go collect the evidence.”

“I thought we could go together.”

“Oh.” Barry takes in a breath, shrugs. “I guess we could. I mean—”

Eddie’s smile interrupts Barry’s train of thought before his words do, “Great. I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

Barry nods, squelches the sudden heat rising in his throat, and heads to the parking lot.

***

They separate once they get to the scene.

Eddie walks around talking to witnesses while Barry proceeds to collect the evidence nearby, within Eddie’s sight.

He keeps an eye on Barry just in case, watches the way he moves, trapped in that little world Barry always seems to be in, his own personal bubble. 

Barry throws a look over his shoulder every once in a while, as if he’s expecting Eddie to do something, and Eddie smiles whenever their eyes meet, holds Barry’s gaze for a second before returning to his duty and allowing Barry to return to his.

Eddie’s done before Barry is. 

He slides the notepad back into his pocket, keeps the pen in hand to occupy his mind as he taps it against his palm, contemplates his options.

Barry seems like a nice enough guy to let him down easily if he’s not interested, but then again, after Oliver Queen his standards might be a little higher than usual, and competing with that isn’t fair.

And alright, Eddie hasn’t exactly been subtle about it, so if Barry hasn’t acted on it he’s likely not interested. Except he hasn’t shied away from Eddie, either, Eddie’s brain throws back at him, making Eddie scrape his foot against the asphalt in frustration.

Is it unethical? 

What if Barry isn’t interested and they can’t work together any longer? If it came out that Eddie was the one to blame, Singh would have him fired without a second thought. He hasn’t put on enough hours to show his worth yet, and Barry’s clearly someone Singh’s lucky to have.

It’s not hard to choose between one and the other.

Eddie sighs, putting the pen away. 

He’ll never get anywhere if he doesn’t try, right?

“Hey, Allen,” he says, trying to keep his voice from wavering as he crouches down next to Barry. 

Barry seems enthralled in whatever he’s doing, but Eddie finds it in him to go on, “I know this isn’t the time or the place… but I would really love to go on a date with you.”

An empty chuckle follows and he clasps his hands together, just to have something to do with them.

 _Smooth, Thawne, very smooth_ , Eddie thinks to himself as Barry turns in his direction, an incredulous gleam in his eyes.

“ _You_ want to go on a date with _me_?” says Barry, slowly, as if tasting the words on his tongue.

“Sure.” Eddie gives a breathy laugh that does nothing to disperse the tension. “I know we haven’t really talked, but you seem like a real nice guy.”

Eddie tries not to shift under Barry’s gaze as a tight smile stretches itself on Barry’s lips. He mimics the movement after a moment, allows himself to smile with his teeth once the butterflies in his stomach have flown away.

“Think about it,” he says.

Barry gives him an almost imperceptible nod, his eyes still wandering over Eddie’s frame even as someone—with perfect timing, at that—comes to get him.

Later, when Barry’s packing up his kit, ready to head back to the station, he stops Eddie with a hand on his arm, clutches at the fabric.

Eddie swallows, glancing down at where Barry’s fingers connect with his sleeve—he doesn’t think Barry has ever touched him _first_ —and waits, waits as Barry wets his lips, slowly, as if weighing his thoughts, his hand leaving Eddie.

“I thought about it.”

Eddie exhales through his mouth, nodding and forcing himself to stay when he’d rather be running away, and asks, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Barry replicates his nod. 

A smile surfaces on his face and Eddie picks his gaze up from Barry’s lips long enough to see the gleam of that smile in Barry’s eyes.

“A drink?” Barry offers, his eyes nowhere near Eddie’s face this time, adds, “After work.”

Eddie laughs, touches his hand to Barry’s for a moment. 

“After work,” he echoes.


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day, y'all! 
> 
> It's been a while since I wrote anything Thallen-related, so I might be a little rusty still. Let's do this, shall we?
> 
> Happy reading! :-)

“Is it just me or is there something burning?” Barry asks as he walks into Joe’s for an impromptu dinner, closing the door behind him.

Joe shouts something back at him from the kitchen and Barry shakes his head as Iris comes over to hug him, puts his arms around her small frame and laughs against the top of her head. 

“Hey, what are you doing here?” she asks as she rubs his back, pulling away to give him a curious look. “I thought you had a mysterious date tonight.”

“Yeah, I did—”

Caitlin emerges from the kitchen before he can finish the thought, gives him a hug that’s quicker but tighter than Iris’, kisses him on the cheek and rushes back when Joe calls for her.

“Sorry,” she whispers, giving Barry an apologetic smile as she walks backwards, wiping her hands on her flour-decked apron. “Duty calls.”

Barry’s frown breaks into a chuckle and Iris beams at him, brushes some flour away from his sweater and takes his hand as they walk to the living room.

“Dad’s trying to bake a cake,” she says. “You know how he gets.”

“Yeah, having Caitlin there is probably a good idea,” he offers through a laugh as they slump down onto one couch.

She pats his knee and gives it a squeeze, bumps her shoulder into his and stays there, tucked under his arm. “So, Barry. Tell me.”

Barry breathes out a sigh, shoulders falling back. He considers making something up on the fly, just to save himself the embarrassment, but then she glances up at him with big, bright eyes and his mind draws a blank.

He presses his fingers to his eyes, chuckles out of exhaustion. “You know the new detective? Joe’s partner?”

Iris opens her mouth and closes it again, laughs as realization dances in her eyes. “ _Oh_ ,” she says, pressing her lips together as if to keep another laugh in. “You mean Detective Pretty Boy.”

“That’s what you call him?” Barry frowns. He shakes his head once his brain computes the thought, smiles. “I don’t know why I’m surprised.”

She breathes out a giggle that takes up the entire room, gives him a slap on the thigh as if taken aback. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”

“I never thought—” Barry pauses, swallows the rest of his sentence; sighs. “I thought he didn’t like me, or that he pitied me.”

“Because of Oliver?” she asks him, and he gives her a short nod. “Bar, you have _got_ to let that go. It’s water under the bridge.”

“No. I mean, yeah. I’m—I’m over Oliver,” Barry stutters, letting his head loll against the back of the couch, his skull suddenly too heavy for his neck to support. “I just. I don’t know. I didn’t even mean for anything to happen.” He bites down onto his cheek. “He kept _staring_ at me, then I started to glance back and we had… eye contact.”

The silence that follows does nothing to ease the buzzing in his ears. Barry swallows, picking his head up to look at Iris.

“Oh, wow. _Eye contact_ ,” she says, in mock surprise. “Did you at least use protection?”

He gives out a barely-amused chuckle. “Shut up.”

Iris pats his thigh again, moves away from under his arm and raises her eyebrows at him. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up. He _did_ ask you out.”

“Who asked Barry out?” Barry glances back over his shoulder to find Caitlin’s head sticking out the kitchen door, an interested gleam in her eyes.

“Eddie Thawne,” he tells her, simply.

Joe’s quiet, “I knew it!” echoes in the background. Everybody promptly ignores it.

Caitlin’s eyes snap in Iris’ direction. “Detective Pretty Boy? _That_ was Barry’s date tonight?” Barry and Iris give her an affirmative nod and her eyebrows fly up. “Congratulations? I mean, _wow_ , Barry.”

Barry rolls his eyes but doesn’t fight the laugh that bubbles in his chest, mutters a quiet, “Thank you, Caitlin,” that isn’t entirely unsarcastic.

“I’ve taught her well.” Iris gives him a wink. It eases the lump in his chest. “But why aren’t you getting into his pants right now?”

Barry chokes on his own tongue. “Iris!”

“It’s a valid question.”

Barry gives out a small groan, conceding her the point, and says, “He cancelled last minute.”

He doesn’t bother hiding the frustration in his voice because he knows she’ll pick up on it. She gives him a small smile, that same one she gave him the day he told her he’d broken up with Oliver.

Barry chews down onto his lip for a moment, offers her a guarded smile as her hand wraps around his, squeezing.

“I’m sure it was an emergency, Barry,” she tells him, smiling back. She releases his hand and pats him on the shoulder before getting to her feet. “Come on. Dinner’s almost ready and I’m starving.”

“So, Barry,” says Caitlin as she carries a pan to the table. Barry and Iris take their seats across each other and she takes the spot next to Iris. She narrows her eyes at him. “Why aren’t you getting into a certain detective’s pants right now?”

Joe groans from the kitchen. Barry’s head falls into his hands. Iris chokes out a laugh.

Caitlin makes a face. “What?” 

Barry glances between her and Iris, mutters, “You’re impossible.”

“I don’t want to hear about anyone getting into anyone’s pants tonight,” Joe announces as he finishes setting the table, taking his usual spot beside Barry. “I wanna eat this wonderful dinner that my daughter-in-law helped arrange, and then I’m gonna have some well-deserved cake.”

The conversation swerves from Barry’s dating life to Joe’s prowess in the kitchen to nothing at all, and a sated lethargy settles in Barry’s bones as he watches the smiles on their faces, wine-happy and familiar, comfortable.

After dessert, Joe leaves the dishes to them and retires to the living room, a glass of scotch resting on his knee. 

They do the dishes in silence until Iris breaks it, taking a sip of her wine, “You know what you should do? You should ask him out.”

“Iris, don’t.”

“I think it’s a great idea,” Caitlin says. “I mean, Iris and I have a reservation at this great restaurant in Starling City next weekend. You can take it if you want.”

Barry looks at Iris and hopes she sees the silent question in his eyes. She trails a look between him and Caitlin, wine swirling in her hand.

“I think it’ll be good for you,” Iris says.

Barry opens his mouth to speak but no sound comes out. He glances up at Caitlin, who just gives him a half-shrug followed by a grin, and sighs, rubbing the side of his neck.

He sags against the kitchen counter. “I guess.”

He smiles back at them even though he knows it doesn’t reach his eyes, carries his gaze over to an old picture of the three of them on Joe’s fridge.

Starling City. May 16th, Oliver’s birthday party at Verdant.

He remembers that night so well, remembers helping Caitlin out with the cake, remembers picking out a frosting so green it looked radioactive, remembers Oliver laughing and refusing to eat it; remembers too much.

“Bar, we’d love for you to go, but you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Iris says after a beat, stopping him from going on a trip down memory lane.

“No,” Barry says, nods. “No, you’re right. It’s water under the bridge.” He dries his palms on his jeans, hides his hands inside his pockets. “I’ll call him, I promise.”

Joe invites him to stay once they’re done but he refuses, uses the walk back home to practice his call to Eddie instead.

It’s not much use—he finds that his vocabulary has been reduced to _hey_ and _Eddie_ once he decides to call and Eddie answers on the second ring.

Barry eases into the conversation after the initial shock, works out the details and hangs up with a short goodbye. No questions asked.

He presses the phone to his chest, the back of his head sinking into his pillow, and almost hopes Eddie calls him back. One minute and twenty-two seconds later—he counts, quietly, in his head—he turns it off and rolls to his side, pulls the covers up to his ears.

For once, as he starts to succumb to sleep, he hopes memories don’t stalk his dreams. 

Is that too much to ask?


End file.
